Read My Mind
by eksley05
Summary: Songfic... Oneshot. Clyde likes Kenny but he can't make himself tell him.


**A/N: Hi!! Okay, so, I wrote this in...two and a half hours and it's 3:15 AM now, so it might be really bad, I can't tell. I just, I love Clyde/Kenny so much. They're both so cute, and...yeah. I hope you like it!**

**Song: Read My Mind by Wave.**

* * *

_I see you every day, but you just walk on by.  
__It's like fireworks that explode inside._

"Dude, did you finish your math last night?" Clyde set his backpack on the floor and leaned against the row of lockers, looking down at Token. His friend was on his knees, rummaging through the mess that made up the bottom of his locker, papers flying everywhere. At Clyde's question, Token sat back on his heels and looked up at him, his expression one of exasperation.

"I can't even _find_ my math book." He resumed his search, pausing only to fling a half-eaten apple at the nearest garbage can.

Clyde sighed unhappily. He'd been counting on Token. Tweek wasn't at school yet—he always seemed to come rushing in at the last minute, _just_ making it as the bell rang—and he hadn't seen Craig, though he doubted that Craig had even _started_ the homework. Clyde had at least _tried_ to do it, while he'd been watching TV the night before, but trigonometry was just so _hard_. ...And boring; he'd fallen asleep in front of the television, waking up in the morning to the sound of some creepy children's cartoon, his notebook still open on his lap, though covered in significantly more drool than it had started out in. By the time he'd showered, dressed, and crammed half a bagel in his mouth, he hadn't had time to even think about his math again until he got to school, with a whole twenty minutes to spare, and realized what his first class was. Token had gotten to school early too, and he'd been the first one Clyde had come to, but... He looked down at his wrist, at his watch, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Craig or Tweek would show up with the assignment while there was still enough time for him to scribble down at least a few answers.

"Hah!"

Clyde heard a loud thunk and looked down to see that Token had managed to locate his trig textbook, judging by the blue book that lay open, upside-down, in the middle of the hallway. He snickered, but pushed himself off the wall and went to retrieve it as Token shoved the contents of his locker back inside the shiny green storage unit.

"Thanks, man," he said, taking the book Clyde held out to him.

"No problem. Any chance you'll be able to do the homework so I can copy it in..." Clyde glanced at his watch again. "...fourteen minutes?"

Token shrugged at his friend and offered him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, dude. We're both screwed today."

Clyde made a frustrated noise, and looked down the hall to his left for someone, anyone, else to ask. Butters had probably done the homework, or Pip. Maybe...no, not Christophe, _he_ probably wouldn't show up to class today. Butters, though, if he could just find him... Hearing voices, Clyde turned his head the other way, and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the group walking down the hallway.

_Just some simple words, that I wanna say...  
__When I get close I hesitate._

Kyle, Stan, Cartman, and Kenny. Kyle and Stan led the way, holding hands and laughing. Cartman was less than a step behind them, and Clyde could hear him shooting insults at the couple in front of him, who were completely ignoring him, too focused on each other. Bringing up the rear was Kenny, the hood of his orange parka down, yelling at Cartman to shut the fuck up and leave Stan and Kyle alone, that he was just jealous because he wanted Kyle for himself. Cartman paused in his verbal abuse of two people he claimed to hate, yet still called his friends, to turn to Kenny.

"Jealous? Ha, yeah _right_! You're the one who should be jealous! I heard Jason dumped you because you're so poor!" Cartman laughed maniacally as Kenny's face fell.

The four boys were coming through the hallway quickly, and Clyde realized he was staring. He swallowed, his throat dry, and wrenched his gaze away from the blond. It took less than a second, though, for his eyes to find their way back again. Kenny looked so sad; that rumor about Jason not being able to handle Kenny's lack of wealth must have been true. Clyde made a mental note to glare at him in class today. Wiping his suddenly-sweaty palms on his jeans, he barely paid attention as Kyle and Stan passed by him, or as Cartman hurried ahead of Kenny to continue harassing them. He did notice Kenny, who was now walking slower, hanging his head, his blond hair falling over his face like a protective curtain. Clyde looked up at the ceiling, as if it would tell him what he should say, but got no reply. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. _Hey_. He would just say, _"Hey, Kenny_." And maybe ask him about the math.

"He—" The word got stuck in Clyde's throat, his voice barely above a whisper. Not that it mattered anyway; Kenny had already gone by. He'd gotten his courage up too late. Again. He groaned, slumping back against the wall.

"Dude, don't worry," Token said, standing and slamming his locker door. He snapped the lock shut and picked up his books from the floor. "We had a sub yesterday anyway. I don't even know if subs are _allowed_ to assign homework."

Clyde blinked, realizing that Token had no idea what had just happened, and thanking God for it. He didn't particularly feel like having his best friend knowing that he was too much of a wuss to say hi to Kenny. Token would want to know why, and Clyde...just wasn't ready to tell. He shook his head slightly, and said, "She was so stupid yesterday too, hey?"

"Tell me about it," Token laughed as they headed off to math class. "I don't think she even passed math when _she_ was in high school."

"She wrote that one plus six equals three, on the board!" Clyde exclaimed. "I'm practically failing math and _I_ know that's impossible!"

"I didn't know you were failing." Token looked over at Clyde, concern in his eyes.

Clyde sighed, shrugging as well as he could with a ten pound backpack slung over his right shoulder. "Yeah, well."

"You can't fail the class. What'll I do without you next year?" Token half-smiled, a sign that he was only kind-of joking.

"What about Craig and Tweek?" Clyde mumbled as they turned the corner, wishing they would get off the subject of his awful grades.

"You know Craig barely ever shows up; God only knows if _he_'ll make it through this class this year," said Token. They reached their classroom and, since Clyde was in front, he reached out and pulled the door open. Token continued, "And it's hard to have conversations with Tweek in the middle of class; he's not exactly the best at being inconspicuous." He shrugged at Clyde, smiling. "Which leaves you."

They made their ways to their seats; sure enough, Craig's and Tweek's were both empty. Clyde dropped his backpack on the floor and rubbed his now-sore shoulder, sliding onto his chair. Token sat down in front of him, twisting around to face the brunet.

"So what are you having trouble with?" He leaned over Clyde's notebook, trying to read upside-down.

"All of it?" Clyde flipped pages randomly and made a face. "Trig, mostly. Fucking...radians."

"Hm." Token glanced around the classroom thoughtfully. "Well, I think Kenny's doing pretty well with that. I heard Ms. Harlow tell him the other day that he'd gotten the highest grade on our trig quiz."

"Really?" Clyde said, surprised. He looked across the room at Kenny, who was alone, slouched over his desk, staring off into space, completely ignoring everything around him. He hadn't known Kenny was good at math.

"Yeah. He'd probably help you." Token nodded up at the clock on the wall. "You have time, go ask."

Clyde gnawed on his thumbnail. Ask Kenny for help? He could barely even say _hello_ to Kenny in the hallway. He racked his brains for some excuse to throw at Token, but came up with nothing. His friend, after all, didn't know...

_Time and time  
__I search to find  
__That opening cliché..._

With a sigh, and trying to ignore his twisting stomach, he flipped his notebook shut, stood, and navigated his way through the desks until he came to the one just behind Kenny, which was still, thankfully, empty. He dropped down into it, trying to think of how to get the blond's attention. What was he going to do? Just say, "_Hey, Kenny, help me with trig, because I'm a dumbass_."? Clyde rested his elbow on the desk and leaned his head on his hand. He hated feeling stupid, and all this was doing was making him feel stupid. Of all the people, of all the _guys_ he could have started having _feelings_ for, why Kenny? Kenny had always made him nervous anyway. He had blue eyes that Clyde always felt were looking right inside you, like Kenny was always trying to find out your darkest secret. Clyde didn't like that; he wanted his secrets to be _secret_. And Kenny died, like, _all_ the time—but came _back_. Nobody else died and came back, just Kenny. It made Clyde wonder if Kenny was even human anymore.

But a few weeks ago, in—coincidentally enough—math class, Clyde had been chewing on his pen and letting his eyes aimlessly wander around the room, and they'd stopped on Kenny. The blond had been having a conversation with Jason, laughing, his eyes sparkling with happiness, and Clyde had felt a strange stirring in his stomach. It didn't take him long to identify the feeling as jealousy, as he realized that he wanted to be Jason, wanted to be the one Kenny was talking and laughing with so gleefully. And ever since then, talking to, even just _looking _at, Kenny had been such a challenge for him. He never knew what to say anymore; he was always so scared of sounding like a moron.

_If you could only read my mind,  
__You'd see that I am struggling  
__Line by line.  
__I wrote it down a million times,  
__But I just can't seem to get it right._

_Ugh_. Why couldn't he just stop acting like such an idiot? It shouldn't be such a big deal; everyone asked each other for help all the time. Just last week, Bebe had come to Clyde with a question about their novel they were reading for English class. Clyde hadn't been able to _answer_ the question, but the point was, Bebe hadn't been afraid to come ask _him_ for help. Although...Bebe was also dating that British kid, Gregory, so it wasn't like she really had a reason to be too nervous to talk to Clyde...

Clyde wanted to bang his head on the desk in frustration. This was stupid. He was being so lame. It was just math. Just trig. He wasn't asking Kenny out on a _date_. He just wanted help with his trig so he didn't fail and have to repeat the class and leave Token with nobody to talk to next year. That's all. He cleared his throat, as quietly as he could, and rehearsed a conversation in his mind.

_"Hey, Kenny. So look, I'm fucking failing at this trig, man, and I heard that you were doing awesome, so I was wondering if..." _No, that sounded dumb.

_"Kenny, man, this trig stuff sucks, hey? Token said you were doing pretty well so..." _Ugh. _No_. That sounded like he'd been talking to Token about Kenny. Which, okay, he had, but that was so not the point.

_"So, Kenny, you wanna come over and help me with my trig tonight?" _Where had _that_ come from? That sounded way too much like a pickup line. Clyde groaned. He wanted to just get up and go back to his own seat, but that would look too weird, just coming over here to sit behind Kenny for two minutes. He had to say _something_.

_Why does my confidence play tricks on me?  
__It shuts me up so I can't speak.  
__Out of necessity I have to prove  
__That my telepathy can get through to you._

Summoning up all of his courage, Clyde reached out to tap Kenny's shoulder, but pulled his arm back at the last second. He glanced around him, feeling a blush creep over his face. Had anybody seen him? He was acting like a kindergartener, not a high school student. He stared at the back of Kenny's head, willing the other teen to turn around, of his own free will. Then Clyde could just wave, and pretend that he hadn't been sitting there this whole time, and Kenny would say hi, and maybe Clyde would actually be able to talk back.

_Turn around, turn around..._ he chanted silently, his lips forming the words as he tried his hardest to send brain waves to Kenny. After three minutes of this, all he had accomplished was giving himself a headache from all the squinting.

Enough was enough. He reached out again and poked an orange-fabric-covered shoulder. When Kenny turned around to see who was there, Clyde found himself staring right into the other teen's bright blue eyes. He squirmed nervously. Did Kenny ever _blink_?

_Why  
__Does it have to be  
__That words get in the way?  
__If you could only read my mind,  
__You'd see that I am struggling  
__Line by line.  
__I wrote it down a million times,  
__But I just can't seem to get it right._

Kenny didn't say anything; he just looked at Clyde questioningly. Clyde opened his mouth to say, "Hey," but what came out sounded more like, "Huynggh." Eyes widening as he heard himself, the brunet snapped his mouth shut, blushing harder than before. He couldn't move, no matter how hard he tried to force his legs to work, and he couldn't even look away. He was stuck, staring at Kenny as the blond blinked—yes, he did blink—in confusion, but stayed quiet. He tilted his head slightly, and his blue eyes seemed to be searching Clyde's plain brown ones for answers.

_If you only knew  
__That I wrote it all for you..._

But Kenny hadn't laughed at him, wasn't laughing at him. Clyde clung to that. He'd just made a complete fool out of himself, and Kenny wasn't making fun of him; that was something, right? Clyde was torn between wanting to die and wanting Kenny to be able to see inside his mind, to see that Clyde wanted him, that Clyde didn't care if Kenny was poor or not. Wealth meant little to the brunet; he barely even ever thought about money, except for when the newest video game came out and he had to work his ass off at the video store to be able to afford it. And anyway, Kenny had _always_ been poor. It was part of who he was; he wouldn't be Kenny if he was a millionaire. Clyde wanted to tell Kenny all of this, but he couldn't make his voice work. He tried to say it with his eyes. _Say something!_ his brain screamed at him. He managed to cough a little, and then...

"Ay! You're in my seat!" Cartman's angry voice interrupted before Clyde could say a word, and he jumped, breaking eye contact with Kenny. He scrambled out of Cartman's seat, his face burning, not looking back as he hurried back to his place behind Token. Surprisingly enough, Craig was there too, sitting sideways in his seat across from Clyde, his legs sticking out into the aisle.

"So?" Token asked as Clyde slid into his seat. "Are you going to get math help and not have to re-take this class with him?" He pointed to Craig, who snorted and flipped off his friend.

Clyde chewed on his thumbnail, and muttered, "Uh-uh, he said he's busy." Not giving Token time to respond, he looked over at Craig and asked, "You didn't do the homework, did you?"

Craig rolled his eyes and Clyde sighed, resignedly.

_If you could only read my mind,  
__You'd see that I am struggling  
__Line by line.  
__I wrote it down a million times,  
__But I just can't seem to get it right.  
__No, I just can't seem to get it right._

As the bell rang and Tweek rushed into class, hyperventilating and nearly spilling his cup of coffee all over the place, Clyde glanced over at Kenny's side of the room once again. The blond was facing away from him, talking to Kyle. Clyde wanted to kick himself for being such a dumbass and choking, _again_. He barely paid attention as Ms. Harlow started the class and asked for their homework assignments. Apparently substitute teachers _were_ allowed to give homework after all. He, Token, Craig, and Cartman ended up with detention for not doing it, but Clyde didn't care. He watched Kenny walk to the front of the room with Stan and Kyle, and place his paper with theirs on the pile on Ms. Harlow's desk. Clyde started scribbling dark, angry lines on one of the pages in his notebook.

He'd ask Kenny about helping him with trig tomorrow. He'd get up the nerve to talk to him, he promised himself, with another quick look at the blond.

But he knew he was probably lying.

_No, I just can't seem to get it right..._


End file.
